Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Pakistan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Eve St. Jones to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
The Star Department,
The Cowsills,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mantronix,
Bad Manners,
Surgeon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Max Romeo,
the Slits,
Jacob Miller,
Freddie Wadling,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Tears for Fears,
Tim Buckley,
Prince Buster,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joe Smooth,
Rhythm & Sound,
Severed Heads,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Motions,
Josef K,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Matthew Bourne,
Rosa Yemen,
Flipper,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Toni Rubio,
These Immortal Souls,
Harmonia,
Wings,
The Toasters,
Monks,
The Dead C,
Eurythmics,
Qualms,
Wire,
Stiv Bators,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Buckinghams,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Monks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eric B and Rakim,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fela Kuti,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nick Fraelich,
Ultra Naté,
Camberwell Now,
Sight & Sound,
Isaac Hayes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Joe Finger,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Radio Birdman,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.